


Waiting

by avercroft



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Countries Using Human Names, Eventual Smut, GerIta being cute and oblivious, M/M, Multi, Neither is America, PruCan getting a lot more than they planned, Prussia being devious, Prussia being devious is not helping Canada deal, Slowish build, Struggling Canada just trying to deal, equal parts snark and fluff, work shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:31:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5724460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avercroft/pseuds/avercroft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waiting for a break? Waiting for his life to change? Maybe waiting for Alfred to disappear? Afraid not, Matthew Williams is short on money and waiting tables at the Empire Grill: a dive bar complete with a crazy crew, a perverted boss, and oh, one awesome bartender. Matthew's got a whole lotta problems, and they're just getting started...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I: Problem(s)

**I: Problem(s)**

Enter Matthew:

Things were going well, really they were. He had made it out of high school alive, a feat in and of itself, and was currently a content junior at the university having almost completed his dual major in History and Education. His overwhelming love of learning and academia compelled him to excel each term despite his overload of credits, while his professors were nearly all refreshed by the timid but polite young man. (Though, he'd never quite get around to noticing that.) Hell, he was lucky enough to get a research internship that had him practically living in the library. (Which was A-OK by him, mind you.)

All he had to do from here was continue with his grades, advance his thesis, get his applications done by next fall and prepare to dive into the graduate work he had so anticipated. After all, a serious dissertation on Canadian history- including but not limited to the best sport ever, the best condiment ever, and the most charming endangered species… he couldn't wait.

And then he got the letter, and immediately thought better of it.

_Dear Mr. Williams,_

_We are pleased to address your interest in participating in our world-renowned graduate program here at the University. We thank you for your time and are including further informational pamphlets on the departments you requested. Also for your convenience and future planning, we have included your estimated enrollment deposit due prior to your registration._

_We hope to hear from you!_

_Dean of the Graduate Board at HU_

" **MAPLE!"** the blonde's voice came out like a shrill, wounded cry, viewing the university's "offer."

Reviewing the document, he received the estimated enrollment deposit cutely sealed in another envelope, rather like a present shouting "Surprise! I'm gonna ransack your wallet now!"

Assuming of course, that he had much of wallet, which he did not.

Matthew Williams had a problem. Is this what doom looked like? It hadn't occurred to him that it would be a concept with so many zeroes.

_What I am supposed to do now?_ He paced around his tiny apartment, which resembled a large closet, in distress, pulling indiscriminately at his disarrayed blond hair.

He certainly couldn't just give up on Grad school, not when he'd worked so hard to get here. But that was a lot of money that he presently didn't have a fraction of. Sure he worked off hours at the library and they reimbursed him more kindly then they should, but that just got him through the week. Nothing like…

_~ don't wanna be an American idiot~_

His phone sung softly, discarded on the corner of his desk, the tone identifying the contact, and flashing an incoming message from…well, we'll just say problem # Brother.

_From: The Hero of the Day_

_Hey! Hey! HEY! :) :)_ _I have awesome news 4 u!_

Matthew sighed, as was his usual response, his hand reflexively reaching up to rub his tired violet-eyes, a habit. "You mean you have awesome news about you I'm sure…" he mumbled absentmindedly.

It wasn't that he didn't love his brother. He assures himself of this regularly. Of course he did. He was HIS brother. But…he couldn't help but think it wasn't a little unfair. I mean, what did he do to piss off Karma/God/whatever while his brother was showered with affluence and well being. Alfred Jones, well, he got everything.

For nothing.

" _Hey Mattie! You're never gonna believe this! They totally crowned me Prom king, you should have been there. Brother to the king!"_

" _Mattie Mattie, look at this letter. I got this great scholarship. Like, I go to school for free if I join the football team!"_

" _MATTIE! I completely aced this exam. I didn't even have to anything it was so great. The teacher says I have excellent charisma! SCORE!"_

" _Mattie! So I won that contest for the political science department! Look at this great car I got with the prize money. Man, everyone is gonna love me in this!"_

Which he proceeded to wreck within six hours, and so on, if you get the drift.

Matthew scratched his head _,_ sighing again while looking pleadingly at the fuzzy white teddy bear on his bed. He silently hoped that just maybe his beloved plush might have a better solution.

Round black orbs stared at the Canadian without any input. As usual.

The violet-eyed boy certainly didn't like admitting it, but his brother might be his best option this time. Matthew spent all his time with his school, engrossed in his study, hell, he'd never even appropriately explored the city around campus. (Aside from the nice bookstore and the grocer with the discount pancake supplies.) In this case, Alfred had something he didn't.

_Connections? A social life? Everything? Shut up…_

He shook his head and began pushing the small keys on his cell phone. Yes, he still had one of those phones. Everyone else reminded him about it plenty, too.

_From: Matt Williams_

_Okay. Hey can we talk about it over lunch? I might need your help with something. Do you happen to know anywhere that is hiring?_

Pause. That was it. This was his brand new low. Asking Alfred. Alfred fucking Jones, for help. His pride might never recover. Not that he had much to begin with, but still.

_~don't wanna be an American idiot~_

_From: The Hero of the Day_

_Hell yeah! I'll hook you up in no time! That's my specialty! Just like everything else ya know? :) Catch ya in the diner in 20? Then you can tell me all about it._

Matthew examined the not-so- interesting details of his shoes for a few moments before settling on going through with this with a restrained sigh.

_The sooner I go the sooner it's over. Besides, grad school right?_

His eyes flick over to the envelope with it's contents scattered over the desk, the word "DOOM!" written over the address front in less-than pristine Sharpie. Beaten by Alfred time and time again? Maybe. Matthew could concede to that. Beaten by a letter, a few impersonal type marks on a flimsy piece of paper. No.

_Not today._

A determined, steady hand grabs his coat from the hanger by the door and stepping out, pulling the warm fabric over his shoulders. Violet eyes spare one last look at his bear, cuddly and happy as ever. "Wish me luck?" Silence greets him in return.

He closed the door.

_I'm gonna need it._

* * *

Elsewhere, not too far from the HU campus on a convenient, bustling corner, a café/bar named The Empire Grill was sluggishly coming to life. The business opened their doors at two, just after lunch, offering cheap food to entice the late-lunch crowd and hopefully inspiring said folk to return after their day at a more exciting hour, where there was more money to be spent and more fun to be had. The location was good, but business, business was struggling this past year. A distinct lack of staff was getting them down and frankly, the night life had been lacking in the last month or so. Maybe on account of the last bust? Still, people should always come out for fun, once in awhile...

_Fun._ The bartender reflexively groaned in a state of near desperation. _That's what this place could use right now. Christ, is it at least dinner yet?_

The tall, platinum-haired man slumped onto his empty bar, his eyes flashing between boredom and sheer irritation.

The clock across the room read three. It made him shudder in disgust. As did the sight of the sparse customers dotting the restaurant's tables. These types were the ones that just sat by themselves or with another person or so… and did EXTREMELY un-awesome things. Usually they scurried away before dinner, when ANYTHING worthwhile could actually happen. Instead, the stared awkwardly at their food or busied their dull selves reading. He shivered uncomfortably. One fiddled with a calculator, while fervently scribbling on an assignment, presumably for the nearby university. It was almost enough to make him gag.

Really, he shouldn't even be here until about five' o'clock. These people didn't require his skills. But the boss, he required all of his full-timers to be here…

"Gilbert!" A male, but flowery voice called from across the floor.

And he was about to require something else. Gag.

The scruffy, blond haired owner of the joint, approached the bar with a playful, but nagging enthusiasm. The bartender was accosted by the smell off him, an overdose of cologne. Floral. Uck.

"I know this is our slowest time of day Gil, but surely you can find something productive to do…" The older man whined the last few syllables, as the bartender shook his head.

"I know, I know." The bartender was scarcely amused with the realization. "Glasses. Polished. I'm on it Frenchie." He turned, pulling a fresh cloth from under the bar and began to pull the drinkware from it's wire racking in a callous, utterly familiar manner.

"Tisk Tisk. You really should refrain from calling me such things. I am your boss Mr. Beilshmidt. Besides, if your brother finds you slacking, you'll having another violent shaking coming. I'm sure you remember last time...unless there was brain damage, which wouldn't surprise me actually..." the boss prattled on, but Gil had long since stopped listening.

His brow twitched at the memory. Last time, oh yeah. He had sort of…well, lost his way and found himself not behind his workstation but instead behind this tight little number in a red dress and… well. He gained what amounted to whiplash after his brother-a serious, domineering blond who just so happened to be the bouncer at the same joint- discovered what was amiss and shook him into next month with a stream of German curses that nearly made Francis blush.

He rubbed his neck for comfort, attempting to shrug off both his boss' commentary and a lingering ache he'd swear was never going to go away.

"You might have been right two weeks ago." the bartender interjects, on the topic of his brother that is. "But if I'm not mistaken, I believe he's a little occupied as of late ogling that cute little bus-boy you hired to clean up for us." A crooked smile crosses the Frenchman's face.

"Oh I've noticed, I think Ludwig is the only one that hasn't. Can't blame him though, he is an adorable thing isn't he? Beams like a little star."

"Eh. You're just a pervert." Gilbert shrugs, continuing to polish the glassware. A burst from the the kitchen startles the two, whilst the doors slammed into each respective wall. A short, tense, INTENSE brunette stormed out carrying a tray with food to a shocked customer who scarcely had the courage to say thank you as the food was nearly thrown on his table.

Said angry man, made his way towards the bar, and the two wide-eyed men on either side of it.

"Someone's pissy…Hey there Roma-" Gilbert began with a smirk.

"SHUT. UP." He glared at the taller man before turning his attention to the owner of the establishment. "AND YOU…" His fists were curled into angry balls. "WHEN. THE FUCK. ARE YOU GONNA GET. A WAITRESS?" His body shook as he demanded some damn answers. Right. Damn. Now.

"Easy my dear cook." The Frenchman's hands raise infront of him in a gesture of peace. "As soon as we have a worthy applicant, of course…"

"If we ever get an applicant…" Gilbert added in a mutter, shining a martini glass innocently.

"SHUT. UP. Well you find SOMEONE. SOON. I. Do Not. Do. People. GOT IT?"

"Of course, of course…" Francis carefully put a guiding arm around his irritated employee to quickly urge the man back towards the kitchen where he belonged. Before he tried to eat someone. Or worse. "As soon as we have someone, Romano. Now go along, back to the kitchen, get the next order for this gentleman now…"

Romano twitched, hastening his steps and whipping the doors open (again) while the wood carved a slightly _deeper_ niche into its impact point on the wall.

Francis sighed. _Whatever am I going to do with him?_

From inside the kitchen, the angry man didn't seem to be improving in mood, as another voice cooed in an attempt to calm him down.

"Loviiiii, easy with the door. Gil just painted the wall yesterday. Again."

"DO NOT CALL ME THAT DAMMIT!"

"I guess I'll hire whoever comes along…" Francis sighed, glancing at the bartender with tired eyes. "But anywho…back to work!" With a wave, he sidled off to 'work,' as it were, likely polishing off that bottle of wine he'd started a few hours ago.

Gilbert shook his head and smiled, moving onto the pint glasses. The bar was soooo much safer than the kitchen. But really though, they did need a waitress, bad. Hell a waiter a would do. But waitress sounded better. Sexy. **He** could definitely use a waitress.

"They'd better be hot Frenchie!" he called. A prompt thumbs up draws a smirk over the bartender's lips. _Good._


	2. II: Orientation (or something like it)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred doing what Alfred does best, getting Mattie in way over his head.

**II: Orientation (or something like it)**

Later:

Alfred strutted happily down the sidewalk amidst the afternoon crowd, arm propped behind his brother's neck as he all but towed his reluctant, awkward counterpart towards their destination.

"Really, how much farther is it?" Matthew asked nervously, scanning the unfamiliar scene around him, adjusting his glasses as though to make something, anything, clearer. It certainly wasn't helping with the future bit.

"Just about another block Mattie-O!" his brother chirped in that utterly ingratiating, overly positive god-awful tone of his.

"It **is** a _nice_ restaurant right?" Matthew feels the need to confirm. It's not like he wasn't the one that asked for help. But this was still Alfred. And Alfred and sense... well, they've never quite seen eye to eye.

"You betcha it's a real nice…" _Bar._ He paused. "Joint. It's a real nice spot, lotsa students love it. It'll be perfect." _And you really need to get out more anyway, sooooooooooo, here we go. I'm such a genius!_ Alfred grinned ear to ear, all but patting himself on the back.

Violet eyes continued to glance suspiciously towards his brother, who was beaming, _too much._ Their late lunch together had went disturbingly well, upon explaining his predicament his sibling seemed to have completely abandoned his "awesome news" to declare that he was the right man for the job... of finding Mattie a job, and that he had recently been in a local restaurant that was hiring.

No sooner had this fact been declared, that they were off. Well, Alfred was off and Matthew was in tow, having abandoned half of their respective lunches for the flies or some brave, desperate passerby. It seemed he didn't have any choice in the matter. Typical.

Matthew spent most of the walk admiring the effective and sturdy craftsmanship evident in this particular sidewalk. His brother beside him hummed something involving "being so great" to the tune of Yankee Doodle Dandy.

He scarcely noticed the declaration of "Hey we're here!" but instead came privy to the sudden stop that had him stumble forwards into the door frame.

Or what should have been the door frame. Maybe the door? But it was surprisingly not so wooden, maybe just a bit squishy, and oh. OH. Matthew looked up, a tight gulp in his throat, adding to his list of descriptors, "tall, steely-eyed, and completely terrifying."

" **MAPLE!"**

Alfred caught his brother's shoulders as the man leapt backwards away from the stiff man at the door who regarded them with a blank expression on stable blue eyes.

Matthew simply gaped, an embarrassing low whine likely coming out of his soul as he expected the larger man to say something, anything. Yell, fuss, greet. But instead, he was greeted with a solid wall of nothing. A big, scary, solid wall of nothing.

"Uhh…yeah," Alfred rubbed the back of his head, taking it upon his heroic self to bail his brother out of this. "Sorry about that, he's just a little nervous. I'm Alfred Jones and this is my brother Matthew Williams. He is here about the job opening!" He added a large smile, hoping for the best with an enthusiastic point at his rapidly paling sibling.

The bouncer, though Matthew didn't know it, raised a pale eyebrow, intrigued.

"He," he pointed to the still shell-shocked Canadian, "is interested in a position, here, at the Empire Grill?" His voice was coarse,and determined in clarity as though to make extra sure they were on the same page. The edge of an accent lingered behind each phrase, though neither brother quite identified it.

"You bet!" Alfred thrust a stuttering Matthew forward, with two eager thumbs up.

"Umm…ummm...,yeah, I, I, I…uh, really need a job," Matthew stumbled, trying not to be intimidated by the larger man. A goal he was failing miserably at. Another gulp. _Coherent sentences Matthew, you can do this._ "So I was hoping…I… could… work…here? His voice still managed to fade out by the end. But he did it. He said the thing. He steeled himself, squinting his eyes, preparing for the worst. " **please**?"

His eyes were still closed and the world was silent. He cracked one open to see the larger man sigh and smile slightly. It was a nicer sight than he imagined.

"Oh, that is a relief. Come on, you'll have to come inside to talk to the boss." The larger man motioned forward as Matthew's brother interjected.

"I think that's my cue, good luck Mattie! Make me proud!" Alfred waved turning on his heel, grinning madly, before darting off before his brother could get a hand on him.

"But!" Matthew protested, only to be cut off by a burly arm ushering him inside.

The man had still been speaking while he sqwaked after his brother. He could assume he was talking about the job opening...but Matthew was frankly still too flustered as the door was opened to do much save nod along appropriately. The taller man seemed to sense his unease. Very alert that one.

"Of course you won't be working at the bar so I wouldn't worry…" he attempts to calm the potential new recruit.

"Oh okay." Pause. "WAIT? WHAT BAR?"

Pushed inside, the door swung closed behind them with a resonating _**thunk,**_ bouncing back once more before closing. In Matthew's mind, the sound somehow resembled the final click of a casket lid, and he, Matthew Williams, was probably in deep shit.

* * *

The short young man was muttering to himself wildly, his red-brown hair messy save for one perfect curl on the side of his head.

_Oh crap oh crap oh crap OH CRAP!_

Currently, he fluttered about to and fro, table to table, alternating from the dining space and the kitchen, trying desperately to keep up with what felt like an incredibly overwhelming amount of work for such a small, normally happy-go-lucky Italian.

_Sweep Sweep Tables Dishes Trash Mop Tables Tables_

_Ahhhhhhh!_

He looked up at the clock, it wasn't even past dinner yet. He finished wiping his current table and slumped, large brown eyes full of worry.

_I've been here two weeks and I'm stillll awfulllll._ He whined to himself.

When was the last time he had pasta?

Oh pizza and painting and kittens, when was the last time he had a SIESTA?

Fortunately for him, his agonizing moment of self-pity ended quickly as his bright shiny attitude could hardly be dimmed for long!

_At least everyone is nice here, veh!_

_Mr. Owner always gives me hugs! Even if they are a little extra cuddly…and that nice chef guy, Toni, even though he is technically training my brother, he always answers my questions and helps me figure out what to do._

_And then there's Mr. Gilbert who has the cute little birdie that likes to sit on his head but drives the health inspector crazy, oh that's funny, she got so mad last week._

_And Mr. Ludwig is always standing outside almost like a guard or something. An epic and tall and super guard! I feel so safe!_

_I kinda have the best job, huh?_

The brunette was so enthralled in his happy thoughts, a grin shining over his features, that he failed to notice the people who had entered the restaurant, only snapping out of his enthusiasm at the sound of the door's final click.

"Oh!" he cried aloud, assuming incorrectly that someone had just left and it was now time to bus another table. "I got it!" He declared to no one in particular, dashing towards the door blindly, where his cleaning supplies were located just off to the side on shelves behind the host's platform.

**BAM!**

"EEK!"

"AHH!"

The Italian spiraled to the floor taking some poor distraught blonde man with glasses along for the fall.

"Owwww…." _DUMB DUMB DUMB DUMB DUMB._ The small brunette scolded himself while absentmindedly rubbing what was sure to be a bruised backside before looking up to see a shocked and embarrassed stranger piled against him on the floor, with Ludwig looming over them both.

The bouncer knelt down quickly, grasping the Italian's wrist in a firm but gentle hold, in a careful attempt to help him up.

"Feliciano, are you alright?" The concern was blatant on the taller man's features. Matthew expected he would be the sort of person that could in no way hide anything.

The young man beside him on the ground fiercely nodded, being pulled back to his feet, while still feeling hopeless as ever. Looking down and away his cheeks were reddening in embarrassment. "Sorry Mr. Ludwig…"

Matthew observed from his new-found spot on the floor, as the stoic man he met outside had softened in the course of mere moments, looking quite caught up with the shorter man who was curling his fists into his apron. It's a moment before he snaps out it, shaking his head as though only then remembering Matthew on the ground aswell.

"I'm sorry about that," Ludwig, as it seems he was called, began sputtering, a pale pink dusting his features as he extended a hand to awkwardly help Matthew back to his feet. He attempted to explain. "Feliciano here is new as well. And, a bit…over-enthusiastic…"

About to brush himself off and explain that it was okay, people often ran into him because they didn't notice him, he was tackled again (though less violently) by the short Italian man. Hugged, it seemed.

"I'm sorry!" Big, earnest eyes stared up at Matthew in apology. "I'm really clumsy and kinda stupid sometimes!" He released the newcomer having remembered what Ludwig had said in the first place. "But wait, Mr. Ludwig said I'm new too, does that mean you work here now too?" Feliciano grinned ear to ear, staring happily up at who he hoped would be a new friend.

"Well, umm…" _Not yet._ Matthew fumbled for appropriate wording while a new voice loudly cut into the conversation.

"What's all the racket, what's this about new hires?" Francis emerged from kitchen, looking slightly distracted while the sound of clattering pots and pans continued from behind the swinging doors. Looking up, he noticed Matthew awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot between two of his other employees. _Oh, well, well..._ In seconds he made his way to the trio, a curious look on his face, while he stroked at the stubble on his chin.

"Well, this young man here..." the scruffy man from the back who Matthew decided was just a little bit creepy, circled around him, eying him more like a plate of food than he was altogether comfortable with. "Wouldn't happen to be here about a job, now would he?" The bouncer nodded.

"Ja, I brought him in to talk to ya, boss," Ludwig answered shortly.

The Frenchman smiled deviously, looking his potential employee to be up and down a few times. "Well?" His foot tapped expectantly.

Matthew assumed that was his time to speak, "Umm.. Yeah. I umm, heard about the job. I need work umm. Badly…" His attempts at smiling without looking like a nervous wreck failed as his lip continually twitched, but he hoped he looked genuine, and…hire-worthy.

"OH EXCELLENT!" The owner shouted, and turned his head briefly towards the kitchen triumphantly. "DEAR LOVINO WE HAVE A WAITER!"

The kitchen doors crept open slightly, just enough for two heads to peer outside. One, the shorter one, having looked suspicious, spotted Matthew and nodded vigorously.

He however quickly resumed being grumpy, muttering, "bout damn time…" before withdrawing back into the unseen kitchen.

The other, friendlier face, smiled brightly, waving at the newcomer before being pulled out of the doorway much to his surprise. A muffled "back to work!" escaped before the doors were closed once again.

The owner seemed unfazed at the rampant strange behavior, while Matthew looked confounded at the bizarre cast of characters he seemed to be throwing his lot in with.

_What have I gotten myself into?_ He sighed. _Actually, what did Alfred get me into?_

"Anyway!" the owner resumed cheerfully. "I'm sure you don't mind getting starting right away…"

"Actually…"

"Great! I thought so!" Francis beamed, giving the young man little room to speak.

_Actually I really have homework to do… but I guess this is what working will be like._

"So first we will get you acquainted with everyone and sort out this business of your orientation and so on. And, ah yes, we will just go from there! Now what was your name my dear young man?"

Matthew nodded, smiling as best he could, having that sinking feeling in his cut that everyone else was wayyyyyy too happy about this turn of events. That had to mean something. And his imagination was coming up with far too many ludicrous explanations.

"Umm. Matthew. Matthew Williams."

"Well Matthew, welcome to the Empire Grill. My name is Francis, but you can call me boss, manager, or anything else indicating my significant status! Mommy, perhaps?" Matthew is uncertain as to just how much he paled and in what way his face contorted but it seemed his owner gathered his reaction clearly. "Oh I see, more of Daddy sort, that's okay too..." Or not. He continued his prattle, finally getting on with the introductions. "Now that strange pair from the kitchen was our chef Antonio and his trainee Lovino. Though you shouldn't call him that until you know him better, it's safer to just stick to Romano, he's a bit….touchy if you couldn't tell."

"Yeah…I got that," he responded, adjusting his glasses out of habit.

"And you have already met our bouncer Ludwig, and Feliciano is our bus boy, he was just hired a few weeks ago as well."

The tall man nodded politely before taking his leave of them, while Feliciano continued to stand by Matthew, looking eagerly on.

"And then there's…" Francis stopped, struck by the odd occasion in which his bold, if not mostly obnoxious bartender was NOT nosing himself into what everyone else was doing instead of working. "Well, there's our bartender Gilbert who…" he began to explain leading Matthew to the other side of the lobby floor but stopping well short of the bar. _Oh. That explains it._

Matthew looked up to meet said bartender, but instead found himself gawking.

Behind the bar stood a pale, lean man, who had an explicitly striking combination of silver hair and red eyes, and had failed to notice the approaching owner and the newcomer completely. A pair of ear buds explained the man's lack of attentiveness, as he tapped his fingers against the bar and nodded his head to some unknown rhythm. A tight fitting blue tee revealed subtle movements in his musculature as Matthew watched the man practicing what he could only describe as parlor tricks. (Bar tricks sounded rude and he really didn't know if such a thing existed.)

Gilbert hummed as the music blared in his ears, happily blocking out all the boringness that plagued the early hours of his shift. Having decided to warm up before any and all fun got started, the argent-haired man toyed with an empty martini glass, tossing a cherry into the air and pulling the glass from its rack just in time to catch it. Getting bored, he rolled the glass down his arm, catching it with his lithe fingers and spinning the glass around each one, finally propelling the cherry once again into the air, so that he could toss the glass into the other hand and catch the fruit for the last time. Then, if this were during happy hour, he would mix a wicked drink to pour on top of that amusing garnish.

_Yes, awesome!_ Gilbert was quite thrilled with himself. Watching his own "awesome" performance in the mirror behind the bar, it was about that time when he noticed that he had garnered an audience. Well he had attracted the owner and an equally enthralled and embarrassed newcomer with wispy blond hair and glasses.

Gilbert smirked at the reflection, pulling one earbud from out from his tangled hair, and retrieving the cherry from the glass, popping in in his mouth before turning his attention to his "audience."

He leaned cat-like with a stretch over the bar before settling himself, chewing the red fruit, the stem sticking out from the corner of his mouth.

"Got something for me Frenchie?"

Francis sighed, nudging Matthew forward as he brought them both closer to the bar.

"For all our sakes actually. Gilbert, this is our new waiter, I'm showing him the ropes tonight, and hopefully since Lovino has no...well, _less_ reason to be homicidal, our business will pick back up."

The bartender raised a curious eyebrow and proceeded to exchange banter back and forth with the owner about this, that, and just about everything else that was evidently wrong with this place. The word 'bored' was used no less than twelve times.

Matthew found himself in an exceedingly awkward spot yet again. Was this going to be a normal thing here? Everyone going on and on and forgetting the circumstances at hand? So, he proceeded to investigate the inner workings of his shoe laces while pondering the accent he noticed from the bartender. It wasn't all together unlike that of the bouncer outside, but it was different, smoother.

The loud sound of pale snapping fingers just in front of his face, brought his attention sharply back to the present with a quiet squeak on his part.

" _ **I said**_ **,"** Gilbert not-so-humbly repeated himself, "Got a name, Birdie?"

_Maple! Those eyes were definitely blood-colored and definitely demanding an answer. Right now. Oh shit._

"Hi, umm... I'm uh, Matthew. Matthew Williams." He sighed at his own shaking voice. _Why I can't I just speak like normal people? Wait, Birdie? WHAT?_

"Okay Birdie." _Shiiiiiit. There's weird eyes hiding under those glasses. Some crazy purple stuff._ The bartender was seriously staring at him, an amused expression, it was making the young blonde incredibly nervous.

"Yes, Matthew I'm sorry. This is Gilbert though you probably figured that out. You met his brother Ludwig outside." Gilbert waved redundantly with a smirk, given that they had just been introduced.

"Oh, yes." Matthew nodded. _Brother. Yep. That made sense._

"Anyhow Gilbert…" Francis glanced at the clock, realizing that he needed to be getting along, given that the rush would be hitting pretty soon for the new guy. "Try to keep it together tonight will you? Maybe even take it easy? Don't need to scare off our new waiter." The owner patted Matthew on the back, while Gilbert merely smirked, making a strange snake like sound under his breath.

With that, the owner turned to Matthew, getting back to business, and finally removing his hand from the other's shoulders. Matthew internally sighed in relief.

"So there's plenty of paper work to do, let's go take care of that and I'll show you the rest of the restaurant…"

"Okay!" It sounded like Matthew might just be getting to the part of all this where he got to learn how to actually do his job. Learning something new, he could handle that. Much better than the meeting new people anyway...

The two walked towards the backroom across the lobby floor. The Frenchman's question catches him by surprise and pulls him from his thoughts, where he had been reviewing all the things he thought waiters would do.

"Any questions about your orientation?"

Snickering from behind him at the bar caused Matthew to hesitantly glance back.

Gilbert wasn't able to contain his snickering at Francis, as the new-hire's blonde head turned back around to stare at him. He winked slyly for lack of any other plan and was quite pleased as the waiter turned several shades of red and hurriedly followed his new boss.

" _Peep Peep!"_

Gilbert turned to his right and looked up where his small yellow bird had a small perch hidden above the bar. The little bird peeped fondly before flapping from its resting place to nuzzle the silver hair of its owner.

"I know, I know, waiter wasn't _quite_ what I was thinking. But you don't seem to mind, do ya little guy?" He reached up to rub the top of bird's head with this forefinger.

" _Peep!"_

"I guess we'll just see. I am awesome you know!"

" _ **PEEP!"**_ The little bird flexed it's talons.

"You too! You too!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So chapter II is up and running! Matt's finally hired...I think. It's starting up slow, but it will pick up the pace eventually.
> 
> Gilbert: Kesesese just how I like it...
> 
> Pshh. Save it for Matthew.
> 
> Gilbert: Hmmm...just what are you insinuating?
> 
> Just a taste of things to come. =P
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated!


	3. III: A New Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthew deals with the aftermath of his first night of work. Alfred continues to make his life complicated. We gear up for another night and a certain bartender is not making this easy for him.

**III: A New Day**

Matthew drowsily cracked an exhausted eye open and rolled to his side to see the time, which read 8:07 A.M. in glowing red, painful numbers from his bedside alarm clock... It seemed to him as though some sound had pulled him out of his much needed sleep, though he was relieved to remember that it was Thursday. Sweet Thursday. He had nearly another hour that he was able to relish with the thought of going back to sleep. Sweet, wonderful, precious sleep.

What he relished less was the memory of last night, his first shift at work, crashing back into his mind with a sudden fervor, reminding Matthew that unfortunately for him, that was NOT a dream.

He moaned irritably and proceeded to crush his face into the soft comfort of his pillow.

_Can we just not think about last night? PLEASE. Ughh._

It could have been worse, he assumed. At least he had a job right? But at _this_ place?

_God Damn you Alfred!_

The Canadian smacked a fist down onto the mattress.

Sure it seemed like he'd be able to do the job, with practice…and better hand-eye coordination and general people skills.

But the antics?

His boss had grabbed his ass a grand total of three times while getting Matthew "acquainted" with his new job. All the while the Frenchman had been muttering on and an off about "being careful with how he behaved. Avoiding provoking dialogue and so on. Sexual harassment and all…"

Matthew promptly tried to suffocate himself with his pillow but failed. He imagines the stuffed bear laughing at him.

And then… there was the incident with Feliciano. He liked Feliciano actually, he did. He was an honest, nice sort…but it seemed like trouble followed the boy around like a lost puppy.

It started with a customer-he already looked like a pervert- that had taken quite a few minutes of Feli's time before making what we'll just call inappropriate advances. Proper words made Matthew feel better about the whole thing. Now from even what little he knows of Feli, Matthew was surprised the naïve boy even noticed, but this time, he did. Even if he freaked for all the wrong reasons, but nonetheless proceeded to shriek in panicked Italian. The Canadian would never in his life imagined a scenario later in which he would have to explain to a peer that another man was in fact probably trying to assault him, as opposed to cannibalism, and explain the value of metaphor.

So naturally the commotion the boy was making, pissed off the once-interested patron, who made the very evident mistake of shoving the boy harshly, sending him to the familiar ground. (Yes he winds up there a lot, but usually on his own, left-footed account.)

The patron's moment of glory was short lived. In moments he was pummeled by a six foot and then some wall of German fury, knocking him to ground like a several bags of moving bricks. The bouncer proceeded to beat the ever-loving snot- _oh god, that's a lot more than snot_ \- out of the ill-deciding man, before quit literally throwing him out the door.

The dull thump the hit the street was mostly drowned out by Feli's cheers, and declaration of Mr. Ludwig being his hero…after all, that awful man was going take him into the kitchen and eat him. Matthew had stood frozen, watching this finale whilst gripping his carrying tray for dear life, in hopes that it would somehow stop him from passing out at the sight of the carnage.

The bartender had snuck up behind him, during the fight, likely overseeing the whole situation, when he patted Matthew's shoulder softly, causing to jump vertically and nearly go into cardiac arrest.

"Don't worry so much, Birdie. We didn't even have to call the cops _this_ time!" He added cheerfully, smiling, before trotting back to his workstation, concluding the incident.

_THIS TIME?_ As though that was realllllly going to make Matthew feel better.

Gilbert? Matthew sighed loudly. That was another thing he was not prepared to deal with.

The Empire Grill's bartender was…a lot of things.

Obnoxious.

Loud.

Perverted.

It seemed to Matthew if the customer had two shapely legs at all and was ordering alcohol, the bartender was essentially all over them. No, really, he might as well just sit on the bar as often as he was nearly over it.

Matthew shuddered. There was just wayyy too much personal contact going on in this place in general.

Oh yeah, the bartender, could not stop harassing him either.

About how he was too quiet, or polite, or essentially how he was everything that Gilbert was not. (Like that was a bad thing.)

"Calm down Birdie, do you never go out or something?"

"Do you even have a social life?"

"You're one of those sad types that lives in the library aren't you."

Matthew growled angrily into his pillow.

This Gilbert fellow was, not in any order:

Presumptious.

Rude.

Gorgeous.

_Don't even go there Matt, that's gross._ He scolded himself.

_Fine, he's just plain sexy._

_SHUT UP!_

He looked up into the round eyes of his teddy bear with a pleading look.

_Save me?_

Blood-colored eyes and a Cheshire cat smile continued to pulse in the back of his mind, angering him more as he grunted into his pillow.

Having worked himself into an awful mood, Matthew decided that he might as well just get up, when he heard a knock at the door, making him consider that maybe something had woken him up after all.

_~Knock Knock~_

"Just a minute!" Matthew climbed out of bed, fumbled for his glasses, and glanced at himself in the mirror. His hair was a wreck, he looked like shit. His muscles ached. This wasn't even his earliest morning. Yet, he're we were.

_~Knock knocka knock knock. KNOCK KNOCK~_

_Now_ _**that** _ _was concerningly musical._

Matthew huffed, opening the door only to immediately have his face turn sour. Outside, Alfred stood, beaming as usual, holding a box containing god-knows-what, with his mouth open ready to speak at Matthew's appearance.

_**~SLAM!~** _

Air whooshed against Alfred's face as the door oh-so-promptly rocketed shut in his face. He blinked for a moment, and resumed knocking.

_~KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK~_

"Mattie, MATTIE! COME ON!" He pleaded. He was the hero damn it! Why did he just shut the door?

"NO YOU SON OF A BITCH YANKEE PIECE OF…"

"BUT MATTIE YOU GOT THE JOB, RIGHT?"

_Damn it._ Matthew sighed, knowing the neighbors were not going to be pleased at all the shouting of either side of his door.

The door opened with a soft click, and Matthew huffed at his sibling, frustrated.

"Yeah, I got the job, but The Empire is **not** a _nice_ restaurant Alfred. It's a run-down dive bar-"

"OH I KNEW THEY WOULD LOVE YOU! I'm so proud!" Alfred was beaming more than usual, causing Matthew a great deal of concern.

"Umm…okay?"

"No, really!" Alfred half hugged his brother with unusual compassion. "This is great! My brother is all grown up and shit!"

Sure it wasn't articulate, but this was a bit surprising coming from his airhead sibling. Kind of nice.

"And BECAUSE I'm so great…"

_Oh boy, here we go…_

"And since I kinda completely, not on purpose forgot my bro's birthday last year…I got you a congratulatory present!" Alfred grinned stupidly, knowing he had struggled with that long word, and felt proud of himself, holding the box straight out in front of him towards Matthew.

Matthew was taken aback, and took the box warily, eyes still full of surprise.

Damn it was heavy.

"Umm…thanks Alfred you didn't need to-"

"OF COURSE I did! I'm the hero! So can I come in now?"

"Oh…yeah," Matthew shuffled out of the way as Alfred rustled inside in front of him. Silent, the Canadian closed the door behind them and carefully set the box on his table.

He stepped briefly away from it, thinking maybe now was the time to thank his brother properly, he did basically get him a job after all. He probably shouldn't be behaving so begrudgingly about it.

And then the box growled.

Matthew jumped somewhere around two feet into the air.

**The box fucking growled.**

"What the shit Alfred?" Matthew had entered panic mode, his voice shrill in disbelief.

Alfred's grin widened. "What? Do you want me to open it for you Mattie?"

Matthew stood still, silent, horrified.

Alfred took that as a yes, "Okay!" He smiled, walked over to the small table, opened the flaps on the box and turned it gently on its side before stepping back with a satisfied smirk.

"Oh, you're going to just love him Mattie!" he declared.

"HIM?"

And then it happened.

It was very white.

It was undeniably fuzzy.

It had beady little black eyes that were regarding both of them curiously.

It was in fact, totally alive and walked out of the box, and plopped comfortably down on the table.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD ALFRED!"

"I know, I know, it's your favorite animal. You don't have to thank me. He looks just like your teddy doesn't he? Hi buddy…" He stupidly waved at the ball of white fur who looked perplexed.

"IT'S A FUCKING BEAR!" Matthew was tearing at his hair, pacing the floor, any concern about the noise level having been forgotten. "This is so illegal, this is so illegal, this is so illegal…"

"Don't worry! The great and wonderful me has a permit! TADA!" His brother pulled a paper from his pocket and shoved it into Matthew's shaky hands.

He looked wide-eyed at the document.

_To whom it may concern,_

_Matthew Williams_ _, is permitted to own and care for this animal in light of its abandonment by a mother bear. It is perfectly tame and safe._

_Signed,_

_Me, Alfred F. Jones_

_(and some other people)_

_*insert illegible scrawl here*_

Matthew slumped forward. "This isn't happening…"

Alfred slapped him heartily on the back. "Anything for my brother! But on that note, I have to be going! Class starts soon!"

Matthew raised a hand to protest but Alfred was nearly to the door.

"Text me if you need anything!"

The door swung close as Matthew simply stared at it, not having the courage to do much else. _Yes what a fine door. Completely ruined by Alfred walking through it but that can be repaired. Oh wait. No it can't._

He took a deep breath and gathered all his strength, turning his head to look at the table.

The little bear, it seemed, had decided to take a nap right there, its fuzzy white belly rising and falling with each quiet little snore.

Pause.

He couldn't help himself as a quiet "awwwwww….." escaped his lips.

And reality came back.

_No! This is wrong!_

But he couldn't just turn him into someone. Hell, he'd probably get arrested. He slumped against the wall and lowered himself to sit on the floor.

"What now?…I guess I'm stuck with you, huh?" He muttered quietly up at the sleeping cub.

He replayed the last twenty four hours in his mind.

_Why does this always happen to me?_

…

_Oh yeah, Alfred._

He hung his head in defeat.

* * *

Later:

Trying to stay focused in class with the knowledge of a hungry polar bear waiting at home for you was not as much fun as one would think.

Shopping for polar bear food, even less so.

So now, Matthew stood in his apartment, having a stocked, albeit bloody freezer, and a well-fed new pet curled up on his bed.

"Okay Kuma…" he mumbled at the content animal with name he had quickly given it. It couldn't just not have a name.

_What am I gonna have to do next?_ He wondered, eyes wandered to the clock near his bed, red numbers flashing 3:45 PM.

_SHIT! Work at 4, shit!_

Stumbling about his apartment in a flurry of limbs, Matthew hastily dressed in his actual uniform for the first time: a pair of black dress pants that he found to be a bit too fitting and a white dress shirt whose sleeves he promptly rolled up.

He looked at himself in the mirror, feeling out of place. He looked kinda fit in these clothes, he supposed all those years of hockey had done something for his figure. But still, the get up was so formal.

_"We need a touch of class around here! I'm trying to get everyone updated!" He recalled Francis chattering as he was thrown a parcel of clothing at the end of his shift._

On his way out the door, he noticed his hair, which was to say a mess of blond waves all over the damn place. He had never had a chance to recover from bed head.

_Fuck it. I can't be late on my second day._

"See you later Kuma!" he called, closing the door behind him while bidding his new friend farewell.

The scatter-brained Canadian with a hopeful expression dashed from his apartment, running some twenty minute walk in ten minutes, drawing more than a few intrigued glances on the way. He failed to notice.

* * *

At 3:55, the dining room was nearly vacant, quite possibly the slowest day yet this week.

Antonio wandered out from the kitchen, bored himself and wondering where his trainee had gotten to, to find himself in the almost-empty room.

He glanced around noticing those few that lingered.

Ludwig sat blankly at the bar, muttering calmly back and forth at his brother, who looked relieved simply for the company.

Francis was M.I.A., as Toni thought they called it, perhaps taking a nap at his desk or making louder-than-they-should be explicit phone calls. Probably the latter.

Lovino, _oh there he is_ , was slumped face first into the table, for once silent.

Joining him within the next few moments, was his brother, Feliciano, looking somehow more like a walking corpse than his brother. He flopped on a chair beside his sibling, closing tired eyes to let his head thunk down on the table. Also silent.

Antonio was about to speak as he noticed Matthew, the new waiter, slipping in the front door, looking ruffled, seeming to intentionally sneak towards the back and avoid the notice of either German.

_Probably just doesn't want to deal with the harassment. Can't blame him. He looks beat. Good, but beat._

"Hey there, you alright Matt?" Antonio called softly, as the other man nodded and approached.

"Yeah, just had a rough day…" Matthew whispered, grateful for the one person at the The Empire that seemed at least semi-sane. He noticed the slumped Italian brothers near them with a raised eyebrow. "Are they okay?" He pointed.

Antonio nodded and sighed. "Yes, they'll be fine, they just overwork themselves terribly. Feli is an art student and Lovi a cooking student, so both have a very time-consuming work load with school alone, and then they are here. And well, they are very tired."

Matthew shook his head in sympathy. "I understand that."

Antonio smiled, "I bet." thinking to himself. "Hey would you like an espresso, I'm going to go get some for these two."

"Oh…sure. Thank you umm, Antonio is it?"

The Spanish man chuckled softly. "Toni is fine. Be right back."

Matthew watched as the chef quietly went back into the kitchen and glanced around the restaurant, taking a deep breath and relishing a calmer moment. It was so quiet. Almost peaceful.

Toni returned quickly, with several mugs in his hand. He deposit one each of the Italians, who murmured a sleepy "mmrph." and "veh" respectively at the offering.

"Here you go," he handed Matthew his mug as he himself took a sip of the dark liquid, pleased for its bitter end-notes, it helped him focus.

"Thank you." Matthew nodded gratefully, taking a long, warm sip.

And then the group of them heard the office door slam open from the back, soon followed by a disgruntled Francis emerging from the doors.

"I swear, no respect," he cursed under his breath before glancing up to see Matthew, Toni, and the Italians sipping their espresso and looking at him curiously.

He was pleasantly surprised, a wide smile on his face. "Why Matthew! I knew that would look positively charming on you!"

Matthew flushed lightly at the attention, wishing that his boss could keep his voice down. He didn't do well with this sort of thing, dressing as such was bad enough.

Over at the bar, Gilbert had been having a less than scintillating, but good enough conversation with his brother to pass the time. Hearing the Frenchman's outcry, he looked up curiously, surprised that he hadn't noticed the new waiter come in.

Scratch that. Completely baffled that he hadn't noticed.

The shy, stuttering Canadian boy looked like a hundred bucks. Maybe more. With clothing that fit, he looked, well completely different. The boy actually had body tone, and his hair. Dude, Gilbert did shit like that on purpose but knowing the bumbling waiter after just one shift, that _had_ to be accident.

Well, whatever it was, his awesome self wasn't about to complain, and took this moment as his cue to wolf-whistle from across the room.

"Looking good Birdie!"

Toni gawked sympathetically, he hadn't been privy to the knowledge that the human face could actually turn tomato red. _Poor Matthew._

Gilbert though, despite his outburst, decided to change the subject in light of awesome, well, more awesome things.

"Ah hem! All of you, the proud staff of the The Empire, need to gather around my awesomeness right now! I have announcements to make!"

Matthew hit his forehead with his palm, but was grateful for the change of subject and wandered over to the bar amidst the others.

Gilbert's eyes danced over each one of the them as they gathered, and when he was satisfied that he had their attention, he began to speak, loudly, clearly, and with bold gestures of the arms.

"As you all know it is Thursday, beautiful Thursday… and do we all know what this means my friends?"

" **Peep peep PEEPITY PEEP!"** Interrupted the bartender's speech.

Matthew's eyes about bugged out of their sockets. On top of that silver-haired head , was a bird, a little yellow bird, who was standing erect, waving a wing to and fro as though to imitate his human perch and peeping accordingly.

_I am not going to squeal childishly at the cute bird. I am not._

Matthew was thankfully able to contain himself to stay silent and keep his awe in his thoughts only.

_But oh my god, what was that maniac doing to that poor bird. Did he trap it? Was it on puppet strings?_ Oh no, he could actually see him doing that. _THE POOR BIRD COULD BE DRUGGED!_

Matthew's panic had nearly raised to the surface when a tap on the shoulder and several words from Feliciano explained.

"Isn't Gilbert's pet bird cute?" he whispered.

Gilbert, was oblivious to his audience, looking up and sighing. "Of course, of course. You're right Gilbird. He might not know. That's why I think we need to go over this."

_Gilbird? Oh that was so humble._

"Go over what?" Feli asked with a clueless expression, despite the fact that he worked the last two Thursdays.

"Trainwreck Thursday." Gilbert replied, the seriousness looming in the back of his voice nearly scaring the piss out of Matthew.

Francis elbowed him. "You know Matthew, like Thirsty Thursday, but better."

_Wait. Thirsty Thursdays. He heard about that. Wasn't that the one day during the week where all the bars had specials and all the students and other people went out and got smashed and stupid and puked and oh no. Oh nononono..._

"Yes, that's right! So that means all of you need to be on top of your game. Because tonight will be busy! And awesome!" Gilbert continued. "Just like me!"

" **Peep!"**

Francis decided that now was probably the time to get everyone moving,

"Okay you heard him," the boss spoke, mentally preparing himself. "We need to get on it, now, it's four 'o' clock and we have an hour till it's gonna start picking up in here. By 7 or 8, expect a full house."

It took no further explanation for the entirety of the staff to scatter, except Matthew who found himself looking at his feet and unsure of what to do.

Gilbert smiled wickedly, leaning over the bar to tap the waiter on the head with his forefinger, pushing slightly forward, enough to tip Matthew's head just a touch back.

Violet eyes looked up nervously.

"Are you ready for this?"

As far as Matthew was concerned, the bartender's smirk was definitely, certainly, **evil.**

_God help me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that good folks, is chapter 3. Matthew, dear Matthew has a long night ahead of him.
> 
> Maybe they will have to call the police this time? Albert might hear the fuss and have to arrive and save his innocent brother...
> 
> but oh, distractions, like the police captain with the nice gun.
> 
> Check back in soon to see what's new at The Empire! (If no one burns it down...)
> 
> Romano: ~ We don't need no water let the mother-fucker burn...~
> 
> o.0 And with that heartening thought. TTFN, please review!


	4. IV: Trainwreck Thursday p.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night's just starting and it's only going downhill from here...

**IV: Trainwreck Thursday, Part 1**

The silver-haired man whistled to himself as he straightened the pour tip and replaced the glass bottle to it's spot on the shelf. Having just handed out another round to a patron and his party on the left, tonight was going pretty damn well as far as he was concerned. The lights were a low, the music was loud, the bodies were hot, and at… he glanced at the clock on the wall…eleven on the dime, this party was finally getting somewhere.

He slipped a hand in his pocket which contained several bills, feeling the edges to get some idea of where he stood. So, his tips weren't so great yet. But so long as he managed to sneak away from the bar to one of the open spaces of the lobby where the guests would crowd and begin to dance, it would all work out just fine. Hell, in these jeans with these boots, he could probably make half his rent tonight if he worked it.

He chuckled arrogantly to himself, and smiled, eyes finding the mirror behind the bar.

Gilbert ruffled his hair with one hand and determined that oh yes, he would do well tonight.

"PEEP!"

He sighed, looking up to an alcove concealed above the bar, where patrons likely had no idea that a little bird was sitting, and ruffling his pale yellow feathers in concern.

"Calm down…. We haven't had a problem in weeks, we didn't even have to make a call yesterday, and damn I thought Lud was gonna murder that guy," he shrugged, knowing that the music would cover up his dialogue.

"Peep Peep…PEPEPEEP!"

He growled with slight irritation in his voice. It was Trainwreck _fucking_ Thursday, Gilbert was not gonna continue getting chewed out by his pet.

"You think you got problems? I'm sitting here arguing with a damn bird and you think you got problems?"

If a bird could sigh in defeat, Gilbird did just that, and his owner grinned merrily at his success.

That is until a familiar shriek echoed from across the lobby, followed by the sound of shattered glass. For the third time since business had picked up.

Gilbert's crimson eyes narrowed as he shook his head, _how many more times is this gonna happen?_ It was just a waste of perfectly good beer…

As anticipated, the frazzled Canadian made his way over to the bar, looking possibly more horrified than last time. It wasn't doing much for his color, he was already a bit pale. Not that Gil was one to talk of course. But the waiter seemed to sense his dismay, addressing it at the outset.

"I know, I know, I'm wasting, I'm stupid, I'm sorry. But I'm gonna need another lager…" Matthew mumbled angrily under his breath, impressed that his stuttering seemed to vanish when he was frustrated and frankly not wanting to make eye contact with the man who seemed intent on making his life more difficult. Because, why not? The universe didn't already have it out for him or anything.

Gilbert was not thrilled. No, of course not. The new waiter couldn't at least ask properly, something like " _I know, I know, I have failed you and your awesomeness…but might I repent and get this poor, desperate customer another drink, and make it up to you later tonight if you would grant me the honor?"_ The bartender laughed to himself at the mental image. _Yeah right, not this bumbling waiter._

Matthew had stood patiently given his mood, or so he though until he heard the bartender laughing, and he clenched his fists at his side.

"GILBERT!"

The taller man blinked in surprise. _Well that was something, at least we're using using names now._ But that wasn't enough, this had to be remedied somehow, for the kid's own sake. He sighed.

"Listen Birdie, this has gotta stop…" his tone became more serious as he began to fill a glass from the tap.

"What. Are you talking about?" Matthew demanded, he wasn't particularly in the mood for another lecture about how miserable he was from this arrogant, self-absorbed, good for noth-

"THAT. That is what I'm talking about," Gilbert cut the new waiter off from his thoughts, holding the full glass in his hand, crimson eyes scowling. "You have got to chill. For god's sake its good that people are responding to ya, but you can't freak out every time they do. Hell, you'd probably making as good of tips as me, well almost, if you could just oblige a little bit! I mean, shit, no one's gonna accost you kiddo, your purity is not threatened by working here."

Violet eyes narrowed in disgust, " **Okay.** First, I know for a FACT that some of these people aren't old enough. They are **freshman**! And second, most of these people have obviously had waaaaayy too much to drink-"

"Something you should try sometime." The bartender snapped, unable to keep his commentary to himself and his tone was scathing. All this serious shit was going to give him wrinkles at this rate.

Matthew stuttered, flabbergasted, though sure that he was going to muster up a scorching comeback when two girls sitting next to each other at the bar began to giggle uncontrollably.

The bartender raised an eyebrow, correcting his tone to it's usual purr, "something the matter, ladies?"

The shorter of the two, cheeks furiously red while trying not to fall off the bar stool, finally got enough control to spit out, "Your boyfriend is so cute when he's angry!"

Red eyes opened in surprise, blinking slowly, well he actually wasn't expecting that one.

Matthew rolled his eyes with a look of disgust, "Oh, you do shut up once in a while. How nice." And promptly decided to not give any more of his time to this crap, grunted and ripped the glass out of the other's hand before trudging back to the other side of the lobby, where a customer was beginning to get grumpy about his missing drink.

Gilbert didn't protest as the drink was taken and watched with amusement as the frazzled boy stomped off.

_Well, he was kinda cute when he was angry._ The bartender muses to himself, watching the other leave. _But boyfriend …not so much? Not too good at that. Occasional plaything would be nice, maybe, we'll see... if he has any personality beyond being a stuck-up, morally upright, pain in the ass..._

He turned back to the two girls, leaning over the bar to whisper closely to them. _But they don't need to know that._ "Not yet…" he whined quietly, eliciting the expected squeal from the two inebriated young women.

As an interesting thought came to his awesome mind, as a small grin began to play on his lips and widened as he continued to speak. "But anyway, you said you think my friend's cute huh?"

Looks like he wasn't just going to make a killing a tips, actually, he was going to have some fun. The Prussian with the cheshire cat smile was officially up to something.

* * *

An unimposing man of normal height and stature, observed the Thursday nightlife from the street. As of yet, no one was overwhelmingly intoxicated, and he had yet to be buzzed to whichever hangout in about a three mile radius from the campus had a fight on their hands, or was about to.

He looked at his watch, scratching the scalp under his dark-blonde hair with the other hand. It was early yet, but not that far off of midnight. That's when the "fun" tended to start.

He was dressed casually enough, with beige pants, a white button-up and a dull brown peacoat that let him blend pretty well with the crowd that was beginning to form in waiting lines outside of each late-night hotspot. For all they knew, he was their age, though he wasn't really that far off, and was just another student looking for a good time.

It was amazing what these kids would tell you when they thought the wrong people weren't listening.

Then again, they weren't as acutely aware of the sleek black handgun that rested in its holster snugly against his ribs under his left arm. Nor, if they were lucky, would they come privy to the sight of the badge secured in his back pocket that identified him as Police Captain Arthur Kirkland.

Finding himself a bit exasperated at the night's potential, he found himself sitting on a bench while he had the chance. He sat in as relaxed a manner as possible and pulled his pager from his pocket, resting it on his leg.

_What will it be tonight?_ He pondered while glancing up at what little of the sky he could see between the buildings.

Frankly, the last couple of weeks had been pretty calm, relatively. Just a few drunk and disorderlies, an almost fight, a few escorts. Little things.

Then again, he hadn't gotten a call to the usual disaster zone.

Come to think of it, **that** was concerning.

Arthur mumbled something incoherent and hung his head in dread.

He had the misfortune of knowing the owner of this particular dive, and even more unfortunately had the honor of visiting the place for what felt like almost every damn week because of some completely ridiculous situation.

Until recently. It had actually been quiet on the front line. _For, lets see,_ he recounted in his mind, _three weeks._

The police captain grunted, a bad feeling brewing in his gut. That couldn't be a good sign.

* * *

The blonde huffed as he made his way back to the kitchen to pick up the umpteenth order of sweet potato fries. Drunk people evidently loved potatoes. At the thought, the waiter concluded that his brother would get along very well with these sort of people.

He opened the kitchen door and stepped inside, realizing to his great relief that he had yet to have to return to the bar after that embarrassing little episode.

_Boyfriend?_ He screamed mentally. _They can't possibly be serious…he's just…just…_

"Matt?" Toni's voice cut his thoughts and Matthew turned his attention to the other man who was holding a platter of orange fries with a look of concern on his face.

"Oh, ummm…. Yeah. Fries, I need those, thanks," he muttered taking the dish.

"Are you okay, you looked umm…kinda stressed out there," the chef determined as he observed the fidgeting waiter.

Matthew tried to come up with a good excuse but sighed miserably and found himself looking at his feet.

"It's just…..ugh. I'm really really not good with this kind of thing. I mean these people, well not that I'm too good with any people, and then the damn bartender, and these girls, and…"

The Spanish man nodded, attempting a small smile of reassurance. "This is the worst night of the week Matt really, you just gotta get through it. Hey then you can get through anything I guarantee you! You're getting more efficient training than Francis could ever give ya just by keeping up with these orders and you keep going back out there no matter what. We've had people quit before just like that…"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah… we really were hurting for help, no one was kidding about that."

The waiter managed a small smile, and shook his head, bracing himself and straightening his shoulders. "Well these fries are getting cold…"

A loud clang from around the corner, caused both men to jump while a loud, angry voice followed shortly.

"ARE YOU GONNA GET THE FUCK BACK IN HERE AND HELP ME OR WHAT?"

Matthew watched as the other man's face went from his usual happy-go-lucky to intensely serious, dark eyes flashing in a manner the waiter had never witnessed.

" **I will be back in a minute… Those wings better be done when I am and done right damn it**!" he barked in a commanding tone, prompting the renewed and frantic clattering of pans without another sound.

Matthew blinked wide-eyed at the unwavering strength in the chef's voice.

Antonio looked at the waiter harshly for a moment, before snapping out of it, shaking his head, and returning to his bubbly self without skipping a beat.

"Well, gotta go! Lovi calls as you can hear!" He waved happily before turning. "I'm coming right now Lovviiiii, how are those wings?"

The blond man shook his head and hustled back out the door to deliver the platter to the waiting customers. The table of four accepted their dish happily and required little else for the time being. About to turn around and begin another round of table checks, Matthew swung himself promptly into the chest of his boss with a little shriek of surprise.

"Well, well," Francis looked down at his flustered employee with interest. "And how is my promising waiter doing tonight…"

He sighed, been doing that far to much tonight, "Busy. Crazy. Busy. Not in any particular order."

The waiter's exhaustion didn't go unnoticed by his employer, but he had already had a head's up from Antonio that the poor kid could use a breather.

"I suppose it is a bit much isn't it?"

He failed to come up with a sufficient response but merely shook his head wearily as his boss looked at the clock.

"Well, its soon midnight so that will mean round two of guests, why don't you take a break quick, get some fresh air or something before it starts."

Matthew looked up, violet eyes full of relief and surprise. But he was not about to complain. "Oh, oh, thank you," he said hurriedly. "Oh but what about my tables?"

Francis nodded understandingly, "Ah well, Feli can handle grabbing refills."

"Oh," and with that he really didn't feel like spending the time to wait around as he heard the owner call for the small, energetic man, and made his way quickly to the door.

As he opened the back door, he met the bouncer, who was likely on his way in to do another round inside, and nodded at him politely.

Ludwig casually held the door for the nervous new waiter, nodding in return and letting the smaller man pass before he entered inside.

* * *

Walking a few feet to the side of the door, Matthew proceeded to ungracefully, flop himself down onto the sidewalk and give his legs a rest.

"Maple…" He muttered, removing his glasses and rubbing his tired eyes, before placing them back on his face. His face tilted upward as he looked at the sky meekly, not even expressing the effort to think right now.

"You my friend, look exhausted…" came a subtle voice from his left.

Several feet away on the other side of the door, leaned a lanky, spiky-haired man, smoking from a long silver-colored pipe.

Matthew assessed the situation quickly. He looked normal enough, maybe about his age, dressed in a pinstripe shirt with a simple vest. He had a calm expression and pale eyes that didn't seem overwhelming judgmental. Matthew admitted that the eye patch was almost a bit seedy, but the scar stretching from underneath it and up onto the man's forehead was enough for the waiter to drop any concern. And given his current level of enthusiasm, he really almost didn't care.

"Yeah," Matthew responded, taking a deep breath, steadying himself. "That's about right."

The other man regarded him with a small tilt of the head, standing upright and taking a few steps closer while taking another inhale of the pipe.

"Do I know you? You look familiar?"

_Here we go again. No, no you don't know me._ "No, you're probably thinking of my brother Alfred Jones."

"Alfred Jones? That prick? No, no, I was thinking I seen you in the library. Maybe not…"

"Oh," Matthew blinked in surprise. "Oh yeah, maybe. I mean I work there sometimes…"

"Yeah, yeah, okay that would be it." The man smiled at him and extended a hand. "My name is Lars, I'm a DJ for the campus radio, we record upstairs in the building."

The waiter nodded, shaking the man's hand awkwardly. "Oh I'm umm.. Matthew Williams. Waiter-not-so-extraordinaire…" He managed a small, sarcastic laugh, which brought a smile to the other man's face.

He motioned to the empty space beside Matthew on the sidewalk. "Can I?"

Matthew shrugged, "Why not?" He dealt with plenty of other forward people tonight, at least this one was nice and sober.

As the Lars sat down beside him, the waiter became distinctly aware of his pipe and the smell that emanated from it. It didn't smell quite like the cigarette smoke that seemed for forever linger around in the street, it was strange, sweeter smelling.

Lars watched the quizzical look that appeared on the other man's face but decided he had little to worry about given that he didn't jump up or freak out or anything. Besides, he was pretty cute in that shy, adorable sort of way, despite the fact that he was really quite attractive but probably didn't know it.

He pulled the pipe from his lips and held it in his fingers towards the man on his right.

"Here, you could use a bit of relaxation right? You need it more than me…"

Pale eyes regarded him curiously and Matthew was not sure how to react. He never really drank or smoked or whatever. I mean it was just.. Not the kind of thing he got involved in. That tended to coincide with louder, more popular, more secure people than he, albeit they were often pretty stupid.

He didn't know if he ever heard of smoking making people relax, but he supposed he shouldn't say no to kindness, given how rough the night had gone thus far. Besides, this Lars guy didn't anywhere near as scary as most of what was going on inside.

"Umm…okay, thanks…" he muttered awkwardly, taking the pipe and not entirely what to do with it, put the end to his lips and quickly inhaled and exhaled, surprised at the taste.

Lars smiled, _he's never done this before…_ interjecting as Matthew looked around uncertainly. "No no hon, you need to take a deep breath," he imitated doing the same, "and sort of hold it in for a little bit, not too long, you'll feel it."

"Oh…" the waiter mumbled shyly. Bars, waiting, assholes, smoking, it was like he was introduced to the entire world in about two days time.

Keeping in mind what the other man said, he took a deeper breath this time, holding the smoke in his chest. He thought he was doing fine when all the sudden he felt it, just like the other said he would. It burned like hell and he exhaled sudden with a few coughs.

"That's alright, that's alright…" Lars beamed, patting the blond on the back.

Matthew nodded, surprised at what was sort of a fuzzy feeling spreading from his chest. _Okay…_ He took another drag off the pipe, more carefully this time.

* * *

Matthew returned to the restaurant about ten minutes later, looking notably better and feeling pretty damn okay about it if he did say so himself. I mean he did get himself a job, and there were some okay people, he got a fucking polar bear, and he just had a very nice stranger share his pipe with him. Nice.

Strolling inside with a slightly dazed but happy expression, he decided after some thought that his first course of action should definitely be to find Francis. Yes, find Francis, so that he knew that he was back and ready to start work again. Find Francis. Check,

The best part was that finding Francis meant walking, and Matthew had also decided that walking was suddenly more fun than it had been in a long time. So he began to make his way around, resisting the urge to put his arms out to imitate an airplane, and walked off not in any particular direction, looking for a scruffy Frenchman who would tell him pleasantly what to do next.

He didn't get far.

Two girls that he seemed to faintly remember from earlier, he thought, had approached him drunkenly and began to mutter happy things that he couldn't quite understand all the while tugging at his sleeve in an attempt to pull him towards the other side of the room.

The waiter was slightly confused at all the sudden attention, but allowed himself to be ushered into an area that was becoming more and more crowded. _Have to give the customers what they want right?_ He grinned at the thought. He was totally doing it right!

_To be continued…_

**Author's Note:**

> And there you have it. Chapter I. It's been a while since I've written anything so I'm certainly rusty. I love feedback. Hit me with whatever you got!
> 
> Romano: *holds up cast iron skillet*
> 
> Antonio: 0_0 NOT THAT!
> 
> o_o yeah. Not that. Thanks for reading! (PS: more characters to come in later chapters )


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